


Contact

by Odin_Crusades



Series: Minifics [17]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Bumblebee - Freeform, Bumbleby - Freeform, F/F, Fluff, Inspired by Fanart, Minific, Singing, Trocadero, otp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 16:36:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5593306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odin_Crusades/pseuds/Odin_Crusades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yang wakes up to Blake singing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contact

**Author's Note:**

> Context: https://www.reddit.com/r/RWBY/comments/3xdcbm/12_days_of_bumblebee_day_6/cy3muli?context=3
> 
> Source: http://kadrag.deviantart.com/art/Can-you-hold-me-Yang-553437261

Something wound its way into the deep fug of Yang’s sleep, gently nudging her consciousness. Yang started to wake up, feeling the soft bedcovers and mattress on her skin and nightwear. She was warm and comfortable, but something was different. She kept her eyes closed, hoping to go back to sleep. She made to tighten her arms around Blake, but her arms closed over nothing.

In her half-awake state, Yang shifted her legs, but there were no legs to touch against. The scent of Blake’s conditioner was lingering, not present. The place where she’d laid was warm, but missing the key element to spooning- the other person.

Yang opened her eyes, sleep tugging at the lids and slowly blinked to clear her vision. As the evidence suggested, Blake was absent. There was a dent in her pillow, and the sheets were turned up. As the rest of Yang’s senses refocused, she found out what it was that had woken her up- singing.

But Weiss and Ruby were away for a weekend of pampering. Ruby would hum and sing to herself as she worked, Weiss would sing on request- or if Ruby begged her enough, and Yang sometimes added her own voice to the dorm.

But Blake never sang. Even at karaoke nights, with Nora and Yang belting out hits, or when Weiss asked for a partner in a duet, Blake politely declined.

Which surprised Yang greatly, as Blake’s voice was very good.

_“Still I remember the rainy September, contact.”_

Yang felt herself smile as she recognised the song. Blake had been sceptical of her musical choices, until Yang had crept up on her with a pair of headphones and plugged Blake into her ‘Trocadero’ playlist. Blake had remained sat on the chair for over an hour until the playlist ended, then had gone back and replayed some of the songs whilst Yang cleaned the dorm.

Blake joined her in the kitchen as she cleaned it, the playlist moving from ‘For Blake’s ears only’ to fill the dorm.

Blake had been an instant convert, and made a point of including the music at every occasion, the lack of a defining genre making it rather versatile. Yang did not complain.

But, as with the karaoke nights, she’d never caught Blake singing any of the songs. Until now.

_“Am I transmitting, is anyone listening? Con-tact.”_

Yang felt a shiver run up her spine as Blake flawlessly shifted the pitch.

_“We. Are green. And grey.”_

Yang slipped back her side of the covers, turning it into a luxurious stretch as she did so, reaching out with her arms and legs, flexing her fingers and toes. Grumbling happily, Yang slid out of bed, toes carefully meeting the carpet as she brought Blake’s stealth tips to mind. She was very grateful that the heaters came on automatically. One of the many great functions of the dorm.

_“The longness of semper, still I remember, contact.”_

Blake was in the kitchenette, and Yang followed her ears as well as her nose. Blake was cooking breakfast, dancing from worktop to cooker, frying pan spitting and saucepan bubbling.

Yang felt the warm carpet turn to cold linoleum, and pulled her foot back from the gap between the floor surfaces, choosing instead to lean on the doorframe as Blake kept her back to her, her yukata augmented with an apron.

Yang looked on, enthralled as Blake worked and sang. Until she stopped, Yang drawing in a breath as Blake went from dancing to standing stock-still. Then she sang the next part.

_“When I think of you… Your name’s in the sky, ninety feet high, con-tact.”_

The way Blake said it, Yang knew which name Blake was thinking about. She smiled, waiting for Blake to resume.

She did.

When she reached the finale, Blake threw her head back to draw air into her lungs:

_“Oh-oh-ooh, two four one ten, two four one ten, Am I still willing, to foot all this billing~”_

“Contact.” Yang breathed. Blake’s ears pricked up then flattened against her head. She swivelled on the balls of her feet, ears reddening and eyes wide.

“Yang? How long were you standing there?” She asked, raising a wooden spoon.

“Not long enough. You have a beautiful voice.” Yang replied, eyeing the spatula. “My porridge is going to overflow.” She warned. Blake looked from Yang to the saucepan and brandished the spoon. “Go back to bed and stay there.”

Yang knew better than to argue, especially as breakfast was at stake. She smiled, and went back to bed, sitting up and looking expectantly towards the kitchenette.

Blake came out having removed the apron, yukata sleeves pulled up over her hands to provide some protection from the heat. She bore a bowl with a spoon in one hand, the other plate stacked with a ‘full Vytal’- sausages, bacon, beans, egg, toast with mushrooms and hash brown. Compared to Yang’s unchanging loyalty to a bowl of hot porridge, it was a longer cook, but one which Blake never tired of cooking.

Yang accepted her bowl and waited for Blake to get back into bed before she dug in, braving the risk of burning her tongue.

“What’s this for?” Yang asked.

“Well, I had an idea in bed last night.” Blake said.

“I remember.” Yang grinned. Blake laughed and shook her head.

“No, not that idea. I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed, that’s all.”

“Well, one out of two surprises isn’t bad. Plus, I got to hear you sing.” Yang replied. “But how come I haven’t heard you sing before?”

“I’ve been practicing.”

“Well, I think you’re pretty damn good.” Yang said, feeling the warmth of the porridge spread down her throat and into her stomach. “Good cook, good singer, very attractive, great in…”

“Okay, okay, enough with the compliments.” Blake blushed. “I didn’t sing before I came to Beacon and after you introduced me to Trocadero, I was inspired. I was going to surprise you all at the next karaoke night. I thought you’d be asleep until I woke you up with breakfast, but you woke up.”

“I think the others will be impressed with your talent.”

Blake hummed in appreciation and went back to her breakfast.

After they’d finished, Yang braved the cold kitchen floor and joined Blake in washing up the various plates, pots and pans. Feeling cheeky, she swung her hips and bumped Blake, who copied Yang. Yang did it again, causing Blake to narrow her eyes and grin, retaliating by splashing some of the running water from the tap onto Yang.

Yang hip-bumped Blake harder, and Blake turned the tap off and looked at Yang.

“I just had another idea…” Blake said, watching Yang grin.

“Oh? Is it a good idea?” She asked.

Blake whispered in Yang’s ear. The grin grew wider.


End file.
